


The old man and his dead bride

by Rose_fluff



Category: Original Work, Warriors of the Dimensions
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood, Blood and Torture, Character Death, Dead People, Death, Gen, Ghost Bride, Gore, Gothic, Gothic Literature, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Torture, Psychological Torture, Torture, ancient writings, corpse, dead bride, ghost - Freeform, gothic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27346879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_fluff/pseuds/Rose_fluff
Summary: Basically, this man kills his bride to be, she locks him in the room she was killed in with her corpse, and basically toys with him for centuries keeping his body alive and preserving her corpse.
Kudos: 2





	The old man and his dead bride

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not an edgy teenager, this was for English homework on gothic literature. Just deal with it.

He lay gasping on the floor, his lower body a mangled mess, his upper body older than dirt. He dragged his finger across his blood-soaked stomach, smearing blood on his finger, ready to write. Writings not in any human language covered the walls, old spiralling symbols written in his blood. He was shaking and gasping, waiting for her, waiting for her words. The words she whispered to him in the dead of night, or maybe it was day. There were no windows in the room, no chinks in the door, nothing to let in any light that could tell him the time. Just himself and the darkness. And _her._ The ghost, the spirit, the ruler. His dead bride, watching over him, keeping his body alive as her corpse lay rotting in the corner.

 _“I’m not here you know, I don’t exist. I’m just your guilt, your conscience. But you don’t have any guilt, you don’t have a conscience. Because you don’t exist. Nothing exists. I would just be a figment of your imagination, but your imagination doesn’t exist. Nothing can’t imagine something and you, you are nothing.”_ As she spoke, he wrote down her words, wrote in her language, the language of the dead. Just trying, trying desperately to write down her words, everything she says, so that the blood on the walls could tell him that she was wrong, he was there, she was there. Trying to tell himself he still existed.

She laughed softly watching him struggle to move his hands. _“How pathetic, you’re old my dear groom, you’re old, you’re dead, and I’m the only one who exists here. Except I don’t exist, you, you are nothing, and yet you still manage to be so pathetic.”_ He wanted to scream, to shout out telling her to shut up, force her to stop this, to leave him alone. But he couldn’t. She was the only one, his only companion in the darkness.

She watched him from the corner, high up against the ceiling, laughing as he failed around not knowing where she was. He was so pathetic, so old, so utterly destroyed and damaged. Keeping him alive this long had been difficult, at first, she just wanted to kill him and be done with it. But over the decades she had gotten used to seeing him suffer, found pleasure in tormenting him. To her he was no longer her groom, her love, her murderer. Now he was just her pathetic little plaything. A dying man, centuries old, insane as she played with his mind and broke him. She had never had so much fun in her lifetime.

 _“Do you see that my love.”_ She whispered to him. _“Do you see that body in the corner. That was mine. That was the corpse of the lady who loved you. Look how live kept it together. Look how its rotting, decomposing. It’s so beautiful isn’t it.”_ He was shaking, dragging his finger across the wall not turning around, unwilling to look at her corpse. He stabbed his finger back through his mangled mess of legs and coated his finger in more blood.

“It’s your corpse, it’s horrible.”

She laughed softly. _“Yes, it’s my corpse, and it’s beautiful. Go look at it, go look and see.”_

“No, I WON’T STAY AWAY FROM ME BITCH.”

She lifted her head up from her lap in amusement. He was flailing around, batting at the air like he could hit her. She was on the opposite side of the room from him, he couldn’t see her. How funny it was to have him flailing around as if she was right there. But the amusement faded, and she grew annoyed. It had been fun, toying with him all these years, watching him slowly go insane. Her precious little plaything. But now, he was old, senile, boring even. She wanted to move on, whether it be to Hell or a new plaything, she didn’t care. And the weight of his evil immortal soul weighed her down. To herself she murmured, _“Ok let’s have some fun.”_

She raised one arm to the wall behind her. Rippling, like a veil in the breeze, the symbols, drawn in his blood peeled themselves off the wall. The old, old blood, cracked and burst into dust, falling gently to the floor. The old man wiled and screamed, decades worth of writing, gone just like that. _“You are not real, you were never real.”_ She lifted her arm to the second wall. _“You are nothing, your writings never existed.”_ His wails grew louder.

“No, no, no, NO. I’M REAL. I’M HERE, YOU'RE HERE, THIS IS ALL REAL.”

She raised her arm to the third wall. _“No.”_ She said, soft as a whisper. _“Nothing here is real.”_ She put her hand up against the ceiling. Bloody dust fell to the floor. He wailed louder, clutching his head. She put her hand against the last wall. Dust.

He clutched his heart. “All the years, all the memories, all the proof I’m real. It's gone. Nothing is here. Nothing is real. It's all nothing. I’m not real. I’m nothing. I AM NOTHING.” He slumped laughing on the floor. “I am nothing.” He muttered.

She floated down to him and held his face in her hands. She slowly lifted the veil between them, allowing him to see her. “ _Do you see me darling?”_

He smiled. “Yes, I see you, I see you.”

 _“Neither of us are real you know.”_ He nodded reverently.

“Of course we’re not, we were never real. We are nothing.”

She smiled peacefully. _“Yes, you are nothing to me. Die.”_ His eyes widened as she stabbed her hand through his chest and ripped out his heart. She stabbed her nails into it’s pulsating flesh. _“Maybe we’ll meet again in hell, my_ ** _darling_** _.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Btw the word darling was in this spikey, scratchy font but ao3 doesn't exactly let that work unfortunately.


End file.
